Camera Obscura
by Cronomon
Summary: Maki thinks the new photographer might be a bit too ambitious. Then again, ambition isn't necessarily a bad thing. UmiMaki, AU.


There's an elegance in the air, and Umi hardly dares to breathe.

The world is still, yet the music continues, flowing, growing, swelling from the lone piano in the center of the room.

Crimson hair glows under spotlights; practiced fingers dance over keys. Half-lidded eyes reflect a mind unseen, and a slender body moves gracefully with the tempo. Powerful chords draw her forward while delicate harmonies reel her back.

Natural lighting would be better, Umi thinks. She holds up her camera and fiddles with the aperture. Natural lighting would definitely be better.

She looks through her lens.

For all the notes and melodies ever forming and ever spilling, the pianist is at peace. There is a hint of a smile, a fragile ease, a serenity so sincere it's almost tangible.

Umi is looking through her lens, and she can't look away.

But a twitch of her finger, and the world is moving again.

—

Umi clicks through the photos with a frown.

Footsteps sound behind her. Umi ignores them and, after a few more minutes, finds a handful of acceptable pictures. She moves them into a separate folder and begins her comparisons.

A presence approaches, growing ever closer, and Umi ducks down uncomfortably when she finds Maki leaning over her to get a better look at the computer screen.

"They look good." The other woman sounds mildly surprised. She points at one photo in particular. "This one especially. I never imagined a freelance would be so much better than the professionals we usually get."

"You're too kind." Umi's voice is steady even as her lips twitch upwards at the compliment. She double-clicks the picture Maki is pointing at and observes the enlarged version.

It is a good photo. Both Maki and the piano are sharp and clear, striking against the white background. Maki's eyes are closed and a relaxed expression graces her features as she plays her heart out.

Maki hums approvingly. "Yeah. I like it."

"Are you sure?"

"Any reason why I shouldn't?"

Umi shakes her head slightly, gaze still fixed on the portrait before her. Then her brow creases and she leans forward, covering her mouth with a hand as she lets out a long exhale.

"Your face tells me otherwise," Maki comments.

"No, it-." Umi pauses abruptly and draws back, careful not to come into contact with the pianist as she moves. "It works." She tilts her head, offering a tired smile. "It'll look nice hung up all over town, won't it?"

"Well, that's what I think. But I want to hear the opinion of someone who actually knows what she's talking about."

Umi hesitates, and Maki looks at her expectantly.

"It's more of a personal opinion of mine," Umi warns.

"That's fine."

"Honestly, it hardly even matters in the long run."

"I want to hear it."

Umi sighs and turns back to the screen, waving the mouse over the blown up image. "This photo… All of them, really… I can't help but feel as though they are lacking somehow," she confesses.

Maki straightens up, folding her arms against her chest and turning to half-sit on the side of the desk. She cocks her head questioningly. "Lacking?" she repeats.

Umi nods. "None of them seem to have what I was hoping to capture in this shoot."

"And what exactly is that?"

"The feeling of your performance."

Maki arches an eyebrow. "The feeling?" she prompts.

"Your emotions when you play," Umi clarifies. "Your passion. Your beauty. I was unable to capture any of it." She opens a folder and scrolls through the hundreds of files in it. "I understood it would be a difficult task, but it is a little regrettable that I couldn't even get one." She doesn't notice the faint tint of red on Maki's cheeks.

The pianist coughs once and looks away, embarrassed at having blushed in the first place. "Well, that stuff sounds pretty ambitious for photography anyway."

"I suppose. But your performance was worth it," Umi responds honestly. "I was hoping to do it some justice."

"Come on, you took plenty of great photos." Maki waves at the screen vaguely. "Besides, it's all for advertisements, anyway. Posters don't really need to show my… passion or anything — the people who come to the concert will see it anyway."

Umi turns to look at her, and Maki can't help but feel she's said the wrong thing.

Even so, Umi simply replies, "That is true," and leaves it at that. She returns to the enlarged image to begin editing. Maki takes it as her cue to leave.

—

When the studio is closing and Maki's agent and crew are leaving, she approaches Umi again, still hunched over the desktop hard at work.

"They're locking up," she tells the photographer. "You can call it a day. Good work."

Umi immediately swivels around and stands up, blinking hard at the sudden blood rush. Maki resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"Good work, Nishikino-san," Umi tells her, bowing politely. "It was truly an honor."

Maki waves off the compliment, choosing instead to nod at the computer. "About the photos," she begins.

"They're coming along nicely," Umi assures her. "I will be sure to send them to your agent once I am finished. They shouldn't be done later than tomorrow afternoon."

"Glad to hear it. But that wasn't what I was going to ask." Maki reaches into her purse and pulls out a white slip of paper. Almost forcing herself to maintain eye contact, she holds it out firmly in offering. "Here."

Umi blinks and, after a moment's hesitation, accepts the paper with a furrowed brow. "This is…?"

"A ticket. For the concert." Maki's gaze shifts to the floor and she finds herself twirling a strand of hair subconsciously. "If you can make it, feel free to come."

"This wasn't part of the initial arrangement for my services-."

"I just thought you might like a second chance or something," Maki interrupts. "You know, to get the… the feeling. We don't have the time to do another shoot so I thought maybe if you came to the actual thing…."

Umi still looks confused. "I was under the impression that no photography was allowed during a concert."

"I mean. You know." Maki shrugs. "Exceptions can be made."

For several moments, there is no reply, but when Maki musters the courage to look up again she sees the prettiest smile in the world facing her.

"That is very generous of you." Umi pockets the ticket carefully. "I will be sure to attend."

"Oh… Good." Maki can't help the glimmer of triumph she feels. "You'd better show me some of the photos afterward."

To her surprise, Umi shakes her head. "Actually, if you don't mind, I think I'll be leaving my camera behind." Her tone is kind and her words honest. "For something like this, I would rather experience and appreciate the feeling myself." She pauses when she realizes Maki is looking at her, then adds, "But I wouldn't mind meeting up with you after the matter, if the offer is still available."

Maki is looking at her—at her smile, her sincerity, her beauty—and she realizes she can't look away.

"Well." She allows a small smile in return. "I don't see why not."


End file.
